Pins and Needles
by ED of Oblivion
Summary: He frowned at the glass, gazing into the space outside of Peacemillion. “I can’t tell you who you are,” he whispered ruefully. “You’re far too secluded for anyone to truly know.” [Oneshot] [light 2x3]


**Author:** ED of Oblivion

**Title:** Pins and Needles

**Rating:** PG (K+)

**Genre:** Drama/Angst

**Summary:** He frowned at the glass, gazing into the space outside of Peacemillion. "I can't tell you who you are," he whispered ruefully. "You're far too secluded for anyone to truly know." (One-shot) (light 2x3)

**Warnings:** Slight _shounen-ai_ ("boy love"), mild angst.

**Disclaimers:** I do not own _Gundam Wing_. _Gundam Wing_ belongs to Bandai Entertainment, Inc. and Sunrise. I am making no profit off of this fiction.

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_**Pins and Needles**_

"_Time for the weather report. It's cold out folks. Bonecrushing cold. The kind of cold which will wrench the spirit out of a young man, or forge it into steel."_ -Diane Frolov and Andrew Schneider, _Northern Exposure, Lost and Found, 1992_

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The blonde one was always staring at him. Glass pools of guilt, shame, and longing, boring into him through rays of aquamarine. But _why?_ It wasn't making him feel any better, and each time he attempted to approach the boy to ask what was wrong, he would be distanced. After a moment's seclusion the pained gaze would return to torment him, ever watchful, _begging_.

Those eyes were going to kill him.

It was dark aboard _Peacemillion_, or, at least where he was. The normally bright-lit hallways had dimmed, most likely from lack of usage in the sector he was wandering in. From the look and feel of it, it appeared as if no one ever really came down this corridor, or ever would any time soon…

Perfect.

He needed time alone, away from those people. Those stares. Those _eyes_. They brought the cold, the nervous tensing in his muscles that scared him. Why did they have to watch him? It was unnerving, and Trowa didn't want anymore of it.

His emerald gaze rose as he noticed a dim light ahead. As he neared, he noticed the dull shimmer of the thick glass on the outer wall: an observation deck. His gloom lifted slightly; perhaps he could sit and monitor the stars for a while, maybe even raise his spirits in the process. He began to approach the wall-sized pane, when he noticed something. In front of the glass, a figure was seated, arms draped around crossed legs, gazing blissfully into the depths of space.

Trowa froze. Silently, not wanting to draw attention to himself, he made to turn away and go back down the corridor. As he did so, the figure's head suddenly turned to look at him. Trowa wanted to run, and was about to, until he noticed the dimly-lit cobalt eyes gazing at him over a long rope of braided hair draped over a shoulder. Oddly enough, the sight made him stop, and a light in his mind suddenly turned on in recognition.

_It's that guy…_

"That guy" seemed just as surprised as he was. His widened eyes and slightly parted mouth suggested that he, like Trowa, assumed that no one would wander down the unused corridor. An involuntary sound arose from his throat, and he suddenly smiled, although his eyes seemed to be hiding something unknown to Trowa.

"Yo, Trowa!" the other called, raising his hand in greeting. "What's up? You wanted some peace and quiet, too?" There were many things Trowa wanted to say, one of them being an apology for disturbing the other's peace, another, an excuse to keep walking and leave the boy behind. What _did_ come out was something entirely different and unexpected even to him:

"Can I sit with you?"

He lowered his eyes to the floor at the blank and mildly-stunned look the braided boy was giving him. Now what made him say that? He had not originally been searching for company; rather, it had been the opposite. But what was done was done, and Trowa couldn't take his words back now. At the other's soft chuckle he looked back up, meeting the soft, almost reluctant smile he was now being given.

"Of course you can," the boy said, moving over slightly and patting the spot next to him invitingly, even though there was more than enough room to sit in the vacant hallway. "Have a seat." Obediently, Trowa crossed the distance between him and the other, seating himself at his side.

For long minutes neither spoke. To many it would have been a moment of awkwardness, but Trowa found that the silence and the simplicity of the other boy's presence were comforting in themselves. More than once he caught himself glancing over to his left, stealing glimpses of the other, for reasons unbeknownst to him. He couldn't quite place it, but while the stillness was welcomed, Trowa couldn't help but feel that something was wrong, that the moment was unnatural in some way.

"I'm sorry," Trowa whispered, suddenly remembering, "but I never did get your name." He looked at his eyes, eyes that were arresting and comfortable and filled with tragic things.

"Duo," he said, a smile working its way onto his face. "Duo Maxwell."

"Duo," Trowa repeated, testing the sound of the name on his lips. "Alright."

Duo looked back through the window into space, and as Trowa followed suit, his mind began to wander. Was it strange that this boy, that he now knew to be called Duo, was so quiet? If Trowa remembered correctly, directly after the battle Duo joined them in, he had been anything but quiet. He'd carried on conversations with both Noin and Quatre, joking and smiling with both of them. Hours ago, when they'd first boarded _Peacemillion_, he was just the same, chatting it up with Howard and the various mechanics. Even Trowa himself had been given the honor of a few light words and wide smiles. Why the sudden change in demeanor? When he had first seen Duo at the circus, it was no exception; he had run to him, excited, eager to speak with him, laughing and smiling for that single moment before…

"Um…" Trowa wondered slightly at how many things he was remembering. "About what happened at the circus," he glanced over to see if Duo was listening, "…with Cathy. I'm sorry—" Duo swiftly brought up his hand and waved off the apology.

"No worries," he smiled (and rather hurriedly, Trowa noticed). "You weren't in any position to do anything about it. Hell, it's not _your_ fault she didn't seem to like me."

"I don't think it's that," Trowa offered, unusually eager to ease the other's doubts. "I think she's just really protective. Of me, anyway. If she could, she wouldn't let anyone come near me and take me away; at least, that's what I heard her saying…" He let himself trail off, promptly cursing himself in his mind. If Duo had come here for silence, then why was he depriving him of it? He was sure the other did not want to be burdened with his own concerns. Even though his many questions went unanswered, still ready on his tongue, he put down any temptations to ask them to Duo. They would most likely go unasked, just like with everyone else…

Trowa brought up his knees to mimic Duo's position, hugging them to his chest. He buried his face in his arms.

_Everyone lies to me._

"What about?"

Trowa's head jerked back up, meeting Duo's curious face in the realization that he had spoken that last thought aloud. He let out an "oh" of acknowledgment, momentarily stalling so that he could explain himself.

"I always… asked people to help me," Trowa began in slight embarrassment. "I asked them to tell me things that might help my memory. They always told me, 'Yes, Trowa, we'll help you.' They never did, though." He frowned in remembrance. "With Cathy, I think it was out of fear that I would leave, like I did when Quatre came. I think I can understand that… but with everyone else, it was like I was a puppet to them. They wanted me to stay in the circus because I made a good act. I don't even think they knew that they were doing it…" He unconsciously wrapped his arms around himself, his fists clutching at the fabric of his turtleneck bunched at his sides.

"I just…" he continued, faltering as he searched for the right words. "I just want to know who I am. Every person tells me I'm a different somebody than the person I asked before; everyone I've asked and trusted has failed me, in a way…" Trowa looked over at Duo, watching as his face began to form an obscure expression. "I just want someone to be honest with me." Duo was already shaking his head slightly in what Trowa took as dread.

"Duo?"

"Trowa, you…" Duo looked helpless. "You can't expect me to…" The ends of his mouth twitched upward nervously. "I don't think I'm the right person to ask."

"Just _something_," Trowa whispered, almost pleading. "Anything at all?" Duo reached up and wiped his brow as if in fatigue, dragging his palm down over his face. When he continued to remain unresponsive, Trowa leaned forward slightly to meet his gaze. "Please?"

That seemed to do it. Duo met his glance, and for a moment, Trowa was nearly convinced that the other might actually shed tears. Duo sighed, turning away again. He frowned into the glass, gazing into the space outside of _Peacemillion_. "I can't tell you who you are," he whispered ruefully. "You're far too secluded for anyone to truly know."

"Why?" Trowa was not exactly sure what his single-word question was referring to; why Duo could not tell him who he was, or why the person he was supposed to be was so secluded.

"I don't know," Duo said honestly, shrugging as he faced him fully. "You just never were very open to people. You were just very quiet, almost antisocial to a point." He stopped briefly, appearing to think. "I don't… think it was because you didn't like people, per se; maybe you just weren't used to people in general." Duo suddenly started and laughed consciously; he moved to rub the back of his head.

"Sorry, Trowa," he grinned sheepishly. "I'm speaking as if you've died, or something." Trowa nodded in acknowledgment, although inside he noted that Duo's comment was not entirely false; in a way, he _had_ died.

"Anyway, I really don't know that much about you," Duo continued, apparently having forgotten his former request to not be asked about Trowa's past. "You're a Gundam pilot, as you may already know now, and apparently you work at a circus. Um… well, you and Quatre seemed to get along pretty well before this whole incident." He looked at Trowa as he nodded to himself. "I'm guessing you and Heero are pretty okay; don't really know about Wufei…" By this point he was simply muttering his facts to himself.

"What about you?" Trowa found himself asking. Duo blinked, apparently surprised.

"Me?" he repeated, pointing at himself. Trowa nodded. "Uh… well, I don't really know; I always kinda got the impression that you hated me."

"Hated you?" Trowa was mildly shocked at the braided pilot's admission.

"Well, maybe not _hated_; that's a pretty strong word," Duo pondered. "I guess it was just general dislike, I think. That, or I just figured you were uncomfortable around me. Something like that." Duo's gaze lowered slightly, as if in embarrassment. Trowa frowned softly.

"Why would I dislike you?" he asked quietly. "You seem really nice to me." The other seemed to stiffen at his comment, and he didn't react; he just stared back out of the window into space, cobalt eyes searching for something that didn't exist while his companion was left ignored.

Trowa didn't say any more; he couldn't. The youth sitting next to him was now unresponsive, and Trowa found himself becoming frustrated at this fact. It was not Duo's fault; he was not obligated to tell him anything, but his acting as if he knew something Trowa did not was upsetting.

The circus performer bit his lip, staring out into space. The stars that looked close enough to be traveled to, to be touched, were in fact distant and unfeeling. Some flickered and suddenly seemed to disappear, and Trowa felt his breath catch.

_It's so cold…_

He unconsciously brought his arms up around himself. Space was so empty… so lifeless. And yet it beckoned man to come explore it, discover its emptiness, and to travel its numb depths. It was undeniable to many, but even so, why was it so forbidding to Trowa?

Trowa gasped softly, his mouth open, frozen in unknown realization. He felt his body begin to tremble ever so slightly, and dread slowly crept into him.

_No! Not here! Not now…!_

He could not let Duo see him like this. Not again. But there was no stopping it, not once it started… His breathing began to quicken, when an overwhelming gasp left him as something flashed in his mind.

"Trowa?"

He was alone; all alone. Floating… weightless against the depths of space and time. Darkness, for so long; then suddenly light, a bright white that blinded him, frightened him…

"Tro? Trowa! Are you okay?"

He brought up his hands to his face, his quick breathing no longer concealed by his will, clearly noticeable to the other beside him, currently trying to catch his attention. Trowa was lost in himself, fighting against things that were not dangerous, and that weren't even real.

"Go _away!_" His own voice surprised him. "_Please!_ Just _stop_ it! I don't _want_ this anymore!" Beside him, Duo began to rise.

"I'm getting Noin. And Quatre. Maybe they'll know what to do."

"_No!_"

Before Duo could fully straighten, Trowa had lunged at him, catching him around the middle and pulling him back down next to him. The braided pilot froze as Trowa hugged him tightly, burying his face into the crook of his neck. When he could feel the taller pilot's shoulders shaking against him, he jolted, almost panicking in realization: Trowa was crying.

"Please don't leave me," the muffled voice pleaded quietly. "I don't want to be alone. I want to be with you. Please don't leave me, _please_." Trowa felt the tension in the other's body begin to wear away. At last, he felt Duo release an enormous sigh, and warm, thin arms circled around him hesitantly. Sobs hitched in his throat, although this time they were partly tears of relief; Duo was not going to leave him.

"Shh, Trowa, shh…" One of Duo's hands cupped the back of his head, fingers brushing through his hair to work his scalp; the other rested welcomingly on his back. "It's okay. Everything's gonna be okay." Trowa almost smiled at Duo's hollow promises. They both knew that the Deathscythe pilot could not keep a promise as big as such, at least not yet. Still, the boy's effort did not go unappreciated; Trowa was in no position to deny any comfort. He felt he could trust Duo more than anyone at this point. Duo would do more than everyone; he could almost feel it.

The familiar cold shot up Trowa's spine. "I'm scared, Duo," he whimpered. "It's so _cold_. Please don't go." Duo shifted against him, moving his leg out from under him to find a more comfortable position.

"Tro, I…" Duo began, sounding strained. "I don't _know you_. What am I supposed to do? I want to help, but I just…" He drifted off. He sighed quietly and slowly let his cheek rest on the crown of Trowa's head. The hand on Trowa's back drifted up to his neck, fingers cautiously dipping down underneath his turtleneck, gently caressing the tense muscles above his vertebrae. Trowa let his eyes slide shut; the cold had diminished greatly, but had not departed completely.

"Come on," Duo spoke, his lips moving slowly against Trowa's hair. "I'll take you to your room." Slowly and carefully, he pried Trowa's hands from their death-grip on his shirt. Trowa came away from Duo, pulling his hands back to wipe nervously at the tear stains on his face, ignoring the warped shape his bangs had taken from being trapped against the other's shoulder. He heard Duo chuckle, but only for a second, before his arm was taken lightly and he was pulled into a standing position. At the other's permission, Trowa latched onto his arm, holding it as a means of personal reassurance as the pair walked down the darkening hallway, leaving the observation deck behind them.

With luck they bypassed all other persons, stepping into the bunking corridor undetected. As the door to Trowa's room swished open, Duo turned to look at him, obviously expecting something. Trowa eyed the floor, his fingers tightening their grip on the other's arm.

"Can I stay with you?" he whispered faintly, afraid of Duo's answer. He was sure the braided boy was tired of his antics and was ready to be rid of him. Duo had been tense throughout all of their time together. Trowa was unsure of what to expect next.

His eyes snapped up as his door slid shut. Duo began swiftly down the hall, pulling Trowa promptly, but gently, along. As they came to a halt in front of what Trowa assumed was Duo's room, he wondered briefly why they could not have simply stayed in his own room, rather than move on to Duo's. Cobalt eyes turned on him, intense and serious. "Just for tonight, okay?" he asked firmly. Despite his surprise, Trowa nodded.

At the sound of Duo's door opening, the Deathscythe pilot smoothly removed his arm from Trowa's grip, moving his hand to the small of the other's back and guiding him inside. The door hissed shut, leaving them in darkness. It was when Trowa's eyes had finally adjusted to the gloominess that he realized Duo had already positioned himself on the bed in the middle of the room. He could faintly make out Duo's form motioning to him.

"Come on," he coaxed lightly, patting the spot directly next to him. Trowa complied, and only after he wondered whether or not he should remove his shoes did he join the other boy. Duo lay on his back and Trowa, following his gestures, lay down directly beside him on his side, slightly on top of the other. Trowa rested his head on Duo's chest, welcoming the arm that came around to cradle his shoulders. He sighed through his nose, gripping the black shirt within his fingers. Duo shifted, arching his back slightly off the bed, before settling back down. It was then that Trowa felt something soft and thick brush against the back of his hand.

"If you have to hold something, hold this," Duo said kindly. "Just don't pull on it." Trowa released his grip on the priest's shirt, taking the lanky object into his hand. It was Duo's braid.

"I'm sorry, Duo," Trowa muttered into the other's chest. He could only imagine what the other was feeling, being put through all this. Duo's body shook against his as he breathed laughter; Trowa didn't have to look to know that he was smiling.

"You need to stop making all these damn apologies," he said, shaking Trowa's shoulder with his hand lightly. "And if you're gonna be sorry about it, don't do it."

"But I—"

"I know. I'm only kidding. Geez, Tro, that's two jokes already. Lighten up."

The new silence lingered for a while, one that was comfortable in itself, that held warmth in it. As Trowa felt himself drifting off, he suddenly remembered something. A gesture he should have performed much earlier.

"Duo?"

"Mm?" Duo had obviously been close to sleep.

"Thank you."

After another lingering silence, the other shifted, and Trowa felt something warm and familiar being pressed against the top of his head. Duo relaxed, gently cuffing the back of Trowa's head with his hand.

"Shut up and go to sleep, Tro." There was good humor in his voice. Trowa found himself smiling as he relaxed into his comrade and fell away into sleep.

Odd…

It wasn't cold anymore.

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_OWARI_

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As many of you may have guessed, I do enjoy this pairing. **XP**

I'm actually very pleased with this; although it did come out a bit longer than I had predicted, probably because I can never write out my thoughts in words exactly how I want. I spent _forever_ on this (not really; I lied), so gimme some good CC! **:D**

Oh! I almost forgot: this takes place while Trowa has amnesia. In the series, it's after Noin, Quatre, Trowa, and Duo board _Peacemillion_, and before they are joined by Sally, Heero, and Wufei. I totally forgot to mention this when this was first posted. I'm very sorry for any confusion! (Sorry, witchwolf!)

For those of you who haven't seen much of the series, when Trowa has amnesia, he sometimes has "attacks" where he suddenly gets cold. These attacks are most likely triggered when something sparks his memory (I think). In this case, seeing space outside the observation deck reminds him of the sensation of drifting through space after being blown out of the Vayeate when it exploded.

Hope everyone enjoyed this at least a little bit!

**_-EDWARD-_**


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